


No Rest for the Witcher

by ghostinthelibrary



Series: Into the Jaskierverse [26]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Established Relationship, Human Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Monsters, Multiverse, double the Geralts double the hmmms, potential apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:12:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27649361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostinthelibrary/pseuds/ghostinthelibrary
Summary: “Is there a way to fight this thing?” Jaskier asks Geralt #2.The witcher’s grim expression is enough of an answer. “You’re not a mage, are you?”“What? Of course not!”“Do you have a silver tongue?”“Depends on who you ask.”“A secret witcher?”Jaskier blinks at him. “What kind of Jaskiers have you been hanging out with?”Geralt and Ciri land in another futuristic world, one where Geralt is a witcher-turned-human and lives with his Jaskier in Toussaint, but the Watcher is close on their heels and time may be running out for this universe.
Relationships: Calanthe Fiona Riannon & Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Into the Jaskierverse [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1895545
Comments: 33
Kudos: 243





	No Rest for the Witcher

**Author's Note:**

> This installation of Into the Jaskierverse occurs in my Where There's a Witcher series, about two months after the events of Once a Witcher. Thank you to teamfreehoodies for betaing!
> 
> Into the Jaskierverse readers: If you haven't read Where There's a Witcher, all you need to know is that this is a modern with magic AU. Geralt used to be a witcher, but was recently turned into a human. He and Jaskier have been in an established relationship for a couple of years now.
> 
> Where There's a Witcher readers: If you haven't, I would highly recommend going and reading the rest of Into the Jaskierverse, because a lot of great authors have written some awesome fics! However, if you want to dive right in here, all you need to know is that canonverse Jaskier was caught in a collapsing portal while escaping a creature created by Stregobor called the Watcher. Jaskier is being portaled uncontrollably between universes, with Geralt and Ciri in pursuit, while the Watcher hunts them.

When Ciri and Geralt step through the portal, Geralt is hit with a wave of mugginess of the like that can only be found in the southern part of the Continent in the summer. It’s nighttime and the air is filled with the hum of insects. When Geralt takes stock of their surroundings, he finds that they’re standing in front of a large stone house. From the looks of the glowing lights on the back of the house, they’re in another future universe.

“You said you had a good feeling about this universe?” Geralt asks Ciri.

Ciri looks down at the swallowtail pendant, frowning. “I did. The tracking spell was being insistent.”

“But not anymore?”

She shakes her head, lips pinched together. “I’m sorry.”

Geralt closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want Ciri to see his frustration and think that she’s the one he’s frustrated with. “Well, let’s go find this universe’s Jaskier. Maybe he’s seen our Jaskier.”

As they move closer to the house, his medallion vibrates against his chest. So there’s magic here. He keeps a watchful eye on the darkened vineyard while Ciri uses magic to open the glass doors into the house. When they step inside, Geralt finds a house that almost looks like what he would expect from a wealthy merchant or a minor noble in his universe, until he hears a faint whirring noise. He looks down to see a flat, disc-like object traveling across the floor right towards him, flashing with little green lights. Wondering what kind of hellish dimension they’ve landed in this time, he draws his sword.

The disc runs into his ankle, stops, runs into his ankle again, then spins around and goes in the other direction. Geralt stares after it, sword in hand.

Ciri shoots him an arch look. “Well, that was harrowing.”

Geralt clears his throat, embarrassed, but he doesn’t put away his sword. It might come back. “You’re going to tell Jaskier about this, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am. And Yennefer. And Cerys. And Lambert. And Eskel.”

Geralt snorts and pulls out his xenovox. “Yennefer?”

There’s no answer. Geralt shakes his xenovox and tries again, to no avail. Ciri has no better luck.

“Do you think something went wrong with the portal?” Geralt asks.

She shakes her head, frowning. “I don’t think so. Everything felt normal. You don’t think something happened to her, do you?”

“Yennefer can take care of herself.” Geralt tries to xenovox one last time, then slips it in his pocket. “Something could be blocking it. My medallion’s vibrating. There’s magic here.”

“Or the xenovox could be broken,” Ciri says grimly.

In another room, a light flickers on and there’s the sound of a door opening and closing. Someone starts humming a tune Geralt would know anywhere, despite his best efforts. _“Toss a coin to your witcher, o valley of plenty…”_

“Is that…” Ciri trails off.

And then Jaskier’s voice says indignantly, “Mousesack, we’ve talked about this. Peanut butter isn’t for cats. No, not even when you give me that look.”

Ciri and Geralt exchange looks. _“Mousesack?”_ Ciri mouths.

Geralt nods. “Think we found this universe’s Jaskier.”

***

Jaskier can’t sleep.

That’s not unusual these days. In the last two months, he and Geralt have upended their lives, packed up and moved from Posada to Toussaint, and have started their own business. Well, they’re trying to start their own business. Neither of them knows much about wine and running a vineyard apparently takes more than liking to drink. It’s a challenge that Jaskier is looking forward to— and gods know Geralt needs a project now that he’s retired from monster-slaying— but it’s causing a lot of sleepless nights.

Which is why he’s up at 3 AM, poring over spreadsheets while he makes himself a peanut butter sandwich. His cat, Mousesack, objects to this plan and is finding a way to get his paws all over Jaskier’s laptop, his notebook, and his sandwich, despite Jaskier’s best efforts.

Jaskier lifts the cat off the counter and gently deposits him on the floor. “Mousesack, we’ve talked about this. Peanut butter isn’t for cats.”

Mousesack lets out a small, annoyed _mrrrph._

Jaskier plants his hands on his hips. “No, not even when you give me that look.”

With an offended twitch of his tail, Mousesack turns and prances out of the kitchen, right past a pair of familiar legs.

With a smile, Jaskier looks up at his boyfriend. “Sorry, love, did I wake—”

He breaks off when he looks into golden eyes that he never thought he would see again. For over a year now, Geralt’s eyes have been a soft, lovely honey brown. Geralt is in the armor he hasn’t worn for over a year, two swords strapped to his back and his wolf medallion hanging around his neck. For a moment, Jaskier wonders if some magical fuckery happened to turn Geralt back into a witcher. Then he wonders if he’s dreaming. _Then_ he remembers the doppler that nearly killed him a few years back while wearing Geralt’s face and his heart plummets.

The imposter’s mouth twists into what is probably supposed to be a reassuring smile.

Jaskier throws the jar of peanut butter at him.

It lands against his chest with a splatter, sending peanut butter everywhere. The imposter’s eyes widen with confusion as Jaskier reaches out to seize a kitchen knife from the dish drainer.

“Your information is out of date,” he tells the imposter. “That disguise would have worked a year ago, but not now.”

“Jaskier,” the imposter says. His voice, at least, is a perfect imitation of Geralt’s. “I’m not here to—”

Jaskier has no option to run. The imposter stands in the doorway of the kitchen, blocking his exit. He can only fight. Geralt is asleep upstairs, oblivious to the danger they’ve found themselves in. If this imposter is here to hurt Geralt, Jaskier won’t let him. Hoisting the knife, he lunges. It’s a fool’s errand, especially given how heavily armed the imposter is, but his opponent doesn’t draw one of his many swords. Instead, he seizes Jaskier by the wrist and presses down on his pressure point to make him drop the knife. He pushes Jaskier against the counter, pinning his arms to his side with little effort. Jaskier struggles, but fuck, he forgot how strong Geralt used to be.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” the imposter says. “I’m a Geralt from another universe. I’m here with Ciri, looking for our universe’s Jaskier. But I’ mean you no harm, Jaskier, I promise.”

Jaskier blinks at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

And then he hears the sound of footsteps on the stairs and looks over the imposter’s shoulder to see Geralt thundering down the back staircase into the kitchen. He’s carrying his sword, but he’s still in his undershirt and a pair of boxer briefs, without even a stitch of armor. Compared to the imposter, he looks painfully human. When he sees the other Geralt pinning Jaskier in place, his expression goes stony.

Jaskier knows how this is going to go: a blade to his throat, a demand that Geralt surrender in exchange for Jaskier’s life. They’ve done this song and dance before many times. There seems to be something about Jaskier that screams “take me hostage.” But to his surprise, the imposter Geralt releases him and steps back, raising his hands as if to demonstrate his lack of weapons.

“I’m not here to hurt either of you,” he says, but Geralt doesn’t listen. Instead, he lunges.

The imposter draws his steel sword and it clashes against Geralt’s silver. Given how strong the imposter is, Jaskier expects it to be over in seconds. But as Jaskier watches, heart in his throat, trying to figure out _anything_ he can do to help without putting his boyfriend in even more danger, he realizes that the imposter is holding back. He’s fighting defensively, blocking and parrying instead of striking. Geralt is still half-asleep with his glasses askew. If the imposter wanted to end this, Geralt would probably already be dead.

“Geralt!” a familiar voice shouts and both Geralts and Jaskier turn.

Jaskier’s jaw drops at the sight of Ciri. Except, it’s not his Ciri. This Ciri is several years older than the one Jaskier knows, probably in her early twenties. Her eyes are greener, her ashen hair brushes her shoulders, and she has a nasty scar over one eye. She has two swords strapped to her back and a Wolf school medallion around her throat, the same as the imposter Geralt.

“Shit,” Jaskier breathes.

“He’s telling the truth,” this Ciri says in a calm, authoritative voice. “We’re from another universe, but we mean you no harm. Neither of you are in any danger. So you can put down your swords now.”

Both Jaskier’s Geralt and the imposter— or not an imposter, but a Geralt from another universe, if he and Ciri can be believed— drop their swords with twin clatters. Geralt is looking between the other Geralt, Ciri, and Jaskier, looking as befuddled as Jaskier feels. Jaskier goes to loop an arm around his boyfriend’s waist and places a hand on his chest. Beneath his palm, he can feel Geralt’s heart pounding.

“I think,” he tells the other Geralt and Ciri. “That you should probably explain.”

***

“So, there are other universes.” This Jaskier is young, probably not that much older than Ciri, with hair that’s longer and curlier than Geralt's Jaskier has ever worn his. Other than that, he’s the spitting image of the twentysomething bard Geralt travelled with decades ago, though he’s wearing striped smallclothes and a baggy shirt that Geralt can’t imagine his Jaskier being caught dead in. He’s looking between Geralt and Ciri in wide-eyed fascination.

“Lots of them.” Geralt dabs at the front of his armor with a wet rag to wipe off the brownish substance that Jaskier calls “peanut butter.” Whatever it is, he hates the smell of it.

“And you’ve been hopping between them, looking for your Jaskier?”

“Yes.”

“Who’s a bard in your universe? That’s incredible. Does he have a lute too?”

Geralt’s lips twitch into a smile, until he remembers that Jaskier had a lute with him when he was lost in that collapsing portal. The lute was lost with him. It could be anywhere. “He does.”

“This is awesome.” Jaskier fumbles with his phone. “So, now, tell me more about your—”

“Jaskier,” the other Geralt says in a clipped voice. He’s watching Geralt, not even bothering to conceal his distrust. His sword is within arm’s reach.

“So, you’re human in this universe,” Geralt says.

His counterpart’s lips thin. “I am now.”

“Now?”

“It’s a long story.”

Jaskier pats his Geralt on the arm. “Geralt was a witcher for about five hundred years before he got turned into a human.”

Geralt’s eyes widen. Five hundred years is a damn long life for a witcher. The oldest witcher Geralt has ever met was Rennes, and Geralt doesn’t think he was much more than three hundred when he died. Oddly enough, this Geralt seems younger, more guarded, almost like Geralt was before he met Jaskier and Ciri. Geralt wonders if it’s because his counterpart never had to take responsibility for a child. Or maybe it’s that he didn’t meet Jaskier until his fifth century. The thought makes Geralt feel lonely.

“When did you two meet?” Ciri asks.

“About three years ago,” Jaskier says. “Geralt saved me from a wyvern. And then I was inspired, so I wrote this song—”

“We don’t need to hear about the song.” The other Geralt turns to Ciri. “How do you fit in here? Where’s Calanthe?”

Ciri’s face goes stony. “She’s dead.”

The other Geralt winces. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Ciri is my child surprise,” Geralt says. “I claimed the Law of Surprise after I saved her father’s life.”

“You claimed the Law of Surprise after what happened with Eskel and Deidre?” The other Geralt looks appalled.

Geralt grimaces. “It wasn’t my finest hour, but it turned out for the best. How do you know Ciri in this world?”

“She was my next door neighbor at my old place. Her and—” Jaskier glances at Ciri and breaks off. “Well, I used to watch her after she got out of school and she became like a sister to me. She lives at Kaer Morhen now.”

“And my… and Calanthe’s still alive in this universe?” Ciri asks in a hushed voice.

Jaskier nods. “She and Eist were traveling the Continent, taking out what was left of the Nilfgaardian government, but they’re back at Kaer Morhen now.”

“And Pavetta?”

His features soften in sympathy. “No, I’m sorry. Ciri’s parents died when she was ten.”

Ciri clears her throats. “Well, then I suppose not everything about this universe is different.”

There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence. Geralt expects it to be Jaskier who breaks it, but it’s the other Geralt. “How long will you be here?”

“It takes me about two days to recharge enough that I can portal to another universe,” Ciri says.

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to.” Jaskier is practically vibrating with excitement at the prospect. His Geralt shoots him a dirty look, but Jaskier doesn’t seem to notice.

“Thank you. And another thing.” Geralt fishes his xenovox out of his pocket and puts it on the table. “We’ve been trying to use this to contact Yennefer, but it’s not working. Any idea why?”

“What’s that?” Jaskier gives it a look that Geralt knows all too well.

Something between affection and pain swells in Geralt’s chest. “It’s a xenovox. I’ll let you examine it later.”

Jaskier’s expression brightens and the other Geralt gives him a soft look. Any doubts Geralt had about the nature of this Geralt and Jaskier’s relationship is put to rest. That’s the look of a man in love.

“Xenovox won’t work in the house,” the other Geralt says. “Yennefer put up wards around the house so magic won't work inside. If you want to talk to her, you’ll have to go outside. Is she back in your universe?”

Geralt nods. “Someone needed to stay behind, in case Jaskier… in case he found his way home.”

The other Geralt frowns. “What happened to your Jaskier? You said you’re looking for him.”

“He got caught in a collapsing portal,” Ciri says softly. “We think he’s traveling from universe to universe, but he can’t control it. We’ve been tracking him.”

“For how long?”

Geralt and Ciri exchange glances. “There’s been so many universes, that I don’t even know,” Ciri says. “Weeks? Months?”

The other Geralt and Jaskier shift closer to each other without even seeming to realize they’re doing it. The sight makes Geralt ache and he pushes himself to his feet.

“I’m going to go try to get in contact with Yenn,” he says. “She’s probably waiting to hear from us.”

As soon as Geralt steps outside the house, he hears Yennefer’s worried voice saying, “Geralt? Ciri? _Ciri?_ ”

No, she doesn't just sound worried. She sounds anguished.

Something cold settles inside Geralt. “I’m here, Yenn.”

Yennefer is quiet for a moment. In his mind’s eye, he can see her trying to compose herself. “I couldn’t reach you.”

“We were inside a warded house. What’s happened?”

“Geralt, the last universe you were in, it’s gone. The Watcher unmade it, just like the others. I wasn’t sure if you and Ciri made it out in time.” 

Geralt leans against the wall and closes his eyes. Another universe, another Geralt, another Jaskier, another Yennefer, another _Ciri_ , all gone. He thinks of the Geralt and Jaskier in the last universe he visited, how he left them newly reconciled and happy. They should have had years more together. “Fuck.”

“That’s four universes gone,” Yennefer says. “Four that we know of, at least. Countless people.”

“And all because it’s following us.” If it was just Geralt, he would lay down his sword and wait for the Watcher to catch him. If it’s his blood this Stregobor-Jaskier hybrid is after, he’ll give it up in a heartbeat if it means protecting Ciri and Jaskier and saving more universes. But if it finds him, it will find Ciri and the rest of the inhabitants of this universe. He can’t let more people die.

“Do you think it hurts, getting unmade by the Watcher?” It’s a childish question, but it’s all Geralt can think about. Did those people suffer, or was it just like going to sleep?

“I don’t know, Geralt,” Yennefer says. “But if it keeps tearing its way through universes, we may find out. If only I could figure out some way to kill it—”

“We can’t kill it.”

“Geralt—”

“It’s Jaskier. A Jaskier.”

There’s silence on the other end of the xenovox. “Are you sure?” Yennefer asks.

“A couple of universes ago, the Jaskier there had a silver tongue. He spoke the truth of the Watcher and now everyone can see what it really is. Stregobor is in there, but so is Jaskier. And he’s fighting Stregobor. He’s trying to stop what the Watcher is doing. We can’t kill him.”

“You don’t think he’s our Jaskier, do you?” Yennefer’s voice sounds very small. “Maybe when the portal collapsed…”

“No, I would know if he was our Jaskier. He’s not. He feels different. I can’t explain it.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Yennefer says. “If there’s a way to save him, we’ll find it.”

“I don’t know what to do, Yenn.” It feels wrong to admit it. Geralt is the witcher. He’s supposed to know how to fix things. But he’s at a loss here. “I don’t know how to find our Jaskier. I don’t know how to stop the Watcher and save the Jaskier trapped inside it. I don’t know how to protect all these universes.”

“You could come home.” Her voice is gentle.

“No, I’m not giving up on Jaskier. He’s alive. I would know if he were—” Geralt breaks off. He can’t even say the word. “And the Watcher would follow us. I won’t risk you or any of the others.”

“You can’t hop around universes forever. You’re not made for it, not like Ciri.”

“It won’t be forever. We’re going to find him.” The idea of them not finding Jaskier is unfathomable. “I should get back.”

“Be careful, Geralt.”

“Always.” He puts away his xenovox and lets out a breath. “I hope I’m not so unsubtle about eavesdropping.”

The other Geralt steps out of the shadows, looking unrepentant. “What is this thing that’s following you and destroying universes?”

“It’s called the Watcher,” Geralt says. “It’s a creature of pure chaos created by Stregobor.”

“But it’s actually Jaskier?”

“There’s a version of Jaskier trapped inside of it, we think. Stregobor is in there too. It absorbed him. We don’t know much about it, except that when it tears through universes, it leaves nothing in its wake.”

The other Geralt’s face is expressionless. “So any universe you go to dies.”

“Not every universe. The Watcher doesn’t even destroy every universe it finds us in.”

“But it could follow you here.”

Geralt doesn’t see the point in lying. “Yes.”

“Then leave,” the other Geralt says. “Get the fuck out of this universe.”

It’s exactly what Geralt was expecting. “We can’t. Ciri needs—”

“I don’t care. I’m not letting you put this universe in danger.” From the way Geralt glances towards the house, it’s clear he means “Jaskier.”

“I would never do anything to endanger any version of Jaskier if I had a choice,” Geralt says. “And I would rather be looking for my Jaskier, but we can’t go anywhere until Ciri’s powers recharge. We can go to the other side of the Continent, if you want, but that won’t keep you safe if the Watcher unmakes this universe. I’m sorry.”

The other Geralt’s jaw works. “How do we stop it?”

“I don’t know. For what it’s worth, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you and your Jaskier safe.” He doesn’t add that he doesn’t have much power to keep anyone safe from the Watcher. If it attacks here, he won’t be able to do much to protect the people in this universe.

“Is that worth anything?” the other Geralt asks.

Again, Geralt doesn’t see the point in lying. “I have no idea.”

***

“I don’t like this.” Geralt lies in bed next to Jaskier and stares up at the ceiling. Even though his human ears can’t hear them, he’s very aware of Ciri in the guest room across the hall and the other Geralt sleeping down the hall in Jaskier’s office.

He feels Jaskier shift. “I know, love, but they need somewhere to stay until Ciri can portal them away. They need help.”

“There’s a universe-devouring monster that used to be a version of you following them.”

“Geralt #2 is you. Another version of you.”

“Geralt #2?”

“Have to keep you straight somehow. And this Ciri is another version of our Ciri. We can’t _not_ help them.”

Geralt doesn’t like it, but he has to admit his boyfriend is right. “Hm.”

“I take it you know I’m right. Excellent. And you said the other Geralt told you that this Watcher doesn’t follow them to all the universes they visit, so we’re probably fine. We can take them out tomorrow, show them the sights. I’d love to get Geralt #2’s opinion on ‘Toss a Coin.’”

“It’ll be the same as my opinion.”

“I don’t know about that. Geralt #2 seems less grumpy than you.”

Geralt snorts and rolls his eyes.

“Also— and this is completely hypothetical, of course— what are my chances of ending up in the middle of a Geralt sandwich?”

Geralt gives him an incredulous look.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Jaskier says, even though it’s dark in the room and there’s no way he can see Geralt’s expression. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“I haven’t. He’s _me._ ”

“Not exactly. He’s you, but a DILF.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

Jaskier sighs. “So, no to the Geralt sandwich?”

“No to the Geralt sandwich. Goodnight, Jaskier.”

Jaskier is quiet for a moment, then says, “Maybe we could ask him if he wants to watch?”

“ _Goodnight._ ”

***

When Jaskier wakes up the next morning, he finds that his Geralt is already out back, teaching his weekly self-defense class. He’s only been teaching them for about a month and he already has a pretty good following. Some of his students even take the class purely to learn how to defend themselves, and not just for a close-up view of Geralt’s biceps. Jaskier finds Geralt #2 and Ciri standing in his kitchen, looking down at the remains of Jaskier’s espresso machine.

Jaskier must make a noise of dismay, because they both turn around, looking shame-faced. “Your Geralt told us how to use it,” Ciri says helplessly.

“But he didn’t take the time to show you, I take it.” Jaskier looks sadly at his deconstructed, very expensive espresso machine. Yennefer and Triss gave it to him and Geralt as a housewarming present. “No worries! I think I have a regular coffee pot around here somewhere.”

He firmly sits Geralt #2 and Ciri down at the kitchen table with a suggestion that they touch _nothing_ and goes about making coffee. After he’s successfully served them coffee and cereal, he pulls out his laptop and plays them the original version of “Toss a Coin.”

“What do you think?” Jaskier beams at Geralt #2 when the song is done. “Three words or less.”

Geralt #2’s lips twitch. “Wyverns don’t travel in packs.”

“That’s five words, Geralt #2. You’re downright verbose compared to my Geralt.”

“My Jaskier would disagree with you.” But the witcher looks amused. “Geralt #2?”

“As charming as you are, my Geralt will always be number one in my heart.” Jaskier’s Geralt may have said no to the Geralt sandwich, but Jaskier can’t resist flirting a little.

“Glad to hear it.” Jaskier’s Geralt strides into the kitchen, skin glistening with sweat after being out in the morning sun. It’s a damn good look and Jaskier reaches up to pull him in for a quick kiss.

“It was an adult wyvern and her newborn pup,” Jaskier’s Geralt tells Geralt #2 and Ciri.

“That was not a newborn!” Jaskier protests. “Those weren’t newborn teeth.”

Geralt snorts.

Jaskier pointedly turns his back to his boyfriend. “There’s no ‘Toss a Coin’ in your universe?”

“There is, but different lyrics.” Ciri gives Geralt #2 such a shit-eating grin that Jaskier knows what’s coming next.

Geralt #2 does too, from the look of horror on his face. “Have mercy, Ciri.”

“No,” she says and begins to sing.

Twenty minutes later, Jaskier knows every word to this new version of “Toss a Coin” and he and Ciri are singing it merrily while the Geralts look like they’ve found themself in the middle of the war zone.

“What’s your favorite version?” Jaskier asks his Geralt when they’re done.

“Hm. The blessed silence version.”

“Geralt, honestly, this is the song that’s brought us together in multiple universes, apparently—”

The lights begin to flicker.

“Huh.” Jaskier looks up at the ceiling. “The electrician was just here last week.”

The entire house begins to shake. Jaskier grips the edge of the kitchen table.

Geralt #2 stands up. “In this world, are earthquakes common in Touissant?”

“No,” Jaskier says.

“Stay here.” Geralt #2 heads for the back of the house.

Jaskier does not stay put. He follows Geralt #2, stopping dead in the doorway when he finds the witcher standing on the patio, looking out over the vineyard. At first, Jaskier thinks what’s moving towards them is some kind of weirdly shaped tornado. The creature is pure horror, a many-legged mass of shadows with a gaping maw. The previously sunny sky has gone dark and the grape trees wither and die as the creature moves over it.

“Shit, is that really me?” Jaskier whispers because even though the Watcher doesn’t resemble him at all, he can see something of himself in it. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know.” Geralt #2’s shoulders are tense. “Get back inside.”

The Watcher shrieks, the sound echoing across the vineyard, and Jaskier’s world goes white. He goes to his knees as terrible images flashing through his head. His Geralt, strapped to a bed and screaming as he’s tortured to death. Ciri, Yennefer, Triss, Calanthe, Eskel… everyone Jaskier knows, devoured by shadow. He doesn’t realize that he’s screaming until hands grab him and he looks up into Geralt #2’s stern face.

“Grab everything you need,” Geralt #2 says. “We need to leave.”

“Is it going to matter?” Jaskier’s voice sounds very far away to his own ears.

Geralt #2’s expression is inscrutable. “I don’t know.”

They find Ciri and Jaskier’s Geralt in the kitchen, both clutching their heads. When Geralt sees Jaskier, he looks so heartbreakingly relieved that Jaskier knows the Watcher’s scream made him see Jaskier’s violent death, just like it made Jaskier see Geralt’s. Jaskier would like to collapse into his arms, but the house is shaking even more violently and Jaskier knows they only have moments until the Watcher is upon him.

“Can you portal us?” he asks Ciri.

She shakes her head. “Not with all three of you. I’m sorry.”

“Then come on.” Jaskier seizes Mousesack from the counter. “We need to get to Roach.”

There’s a scramble as everyone grabs their weapons and armor and Jaskier rushes to find the car keys. Paintings start to fall off the walls and from somewhere upstairs, he hears a window shatter. When he looks outside, all he sees is darkness. The Watcher must be nearly on top of them.

“Is there a way to fight this thing?” Jaskier asks Geralt #2.

The witcher’s grim expression is enough of an answer. “You’re not a mage, are you?”

“What? Of course not!”

“Do you have a silver tongue?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“A secret witcher?”

Jaskier blinks at him. “What kind of Jaskiers have you been hanging out with?”

Before Geralt #2 can answer, Jaskier’s Geralt grabs Jaskier by the arm and hauls him towards the back door. “Come on!”

Geralt #2 and Ciri must have seen a car before in one of their previous universes, because neither of them hesitate to slide into Roach’s backseat. Jaskier jumps into the passenger seat and Geralt peels out of the driveway. Jaskier twists around in his seat to see the Watcher stepping over their house like Jaskier would step over a pebble. It’s massive, the size of a mountain. It blots out the sun.

There’s no way they’re going to be able to outrun it. Terror tastes sour in Jaskier’s mouth.

“What will it do to us if it catches us? It’s me, so it will just want to sing to us, right?” Jaskier aims for levity, but his voice comes out far too high-pitched.

All Geralt #2 says is, “Can this thing go faster?”

“It’s faster than a horse,” Jaskier’s Geralt says. And he is driving fast, faster than Jaskier has ever seen him drive. The countryside of Toussaint is flying past them. But it isn’t enough, not when the thing pursuing them is enormous.

“It’s getting closer,” Ciri says, completely unnecessarily.

Another shriek rends the air and Jaskier clasps his hands over his ears. Images of Geralt screaming, Geralt bleeding, Geralt dead flash across his vision. The car swerves dangerously and from the backseat, Geralt #2 lunges forward to grab hold of the wheel.

“None of it is real,” he says.

 _Not yet,_ Jaskier thinks, but doesn’t say. He squeezes Mousesack tighter against his chest. Mousesack is normally placid, no matter the situation, but he has his claws sunk into Jaskier’s chest and his fur is bristled. 

As they pass one of the many picturesque houses that litter the Toussainti countryside, an enormous, shadowy leg descends from the sky and crushes the house like a bug. Jaskier looks up through Roach’s sunroof and sees a mouth with far too many teeth directly above them.

“Geralt,” he whispers.

Geralt’s eyes are locked on the road. “Call Yennefer.”

“But—” Calling Yennefer means putting more people they love in jeopardy.

“Call her, Jask.”

Jaskier fumbles for his phone as something splatters on the windshield. As Jaskier watches in horror, it begins to eat through the glass.

“It fucking spits acid too?” Geralt growls.

“Stregobor always had a flair for the dramatic,” Geralt #2 says.

When Yennefer picks up Jaskier’s call, Jaskier doesn’t give her time to say a word before he shouts, “Yenn, we need a portal big enough for Roach to fit through. We’re on Route 27, heading towards Beauclaire Way in Toussaint.”

“Jaskier.” She sounds somewhere between exasperated and concerned. “You know I can’t just—”

“Yes, I know blind portals are dangerous, but we’re about to die! Fuck!” Jaskier ducks down in his seat as an enormous leg almost skewers their car. Only Geralt’s quick swerve saves them. “Yennefer, please, the portal!”

“Fine, but if you end up split in half—”

“I will come back as a wraith just so you can say I told you so, I promise.”

A portal opens up in front of the car just as the Watcher lets out another earsplitting shriek. Roach goes sailing through the portal. Jaskier closes his eyes as the car fishtails. If they’re about to go off a cliff, he doesn’t want to see it.

The car comes to a sudden, lurching stop and Jaskier opens his eyes. Roach’s front bumper is only inches from the wall of Kaer Morhen. Yennefer stands in the doorway, arms outstretched. Next to Jaskier, Geralt lets out a long breath.

The passenger side door flies open and Jaskier looks up to see Calanthe standing there, eyes wide with worry. “Jaskier? Geralt? What are you—” Her eyes fall on the Geralt and Ciri in the backseat and she goes white with shock. “What the fuck?”

“It’s a long story.” Jaskier releases Mousesack, who streaks into the keep without a backward glance, and climbs out of the car on shaky legs. “Suffice to say, the world might be about to end. Do we have any White Gull?”

***

It’s strange to be in this universe’s version of Kaer Morhen, with the rubble of the destroyed half of the keep cleared away, modern electricity, and running water. Geralt would like the chance to explore and see what else has changed, but it doesn’t look like he’ll have the time for that luxury.

“We just got a call from Lyria.” Vesemir comes striding into the dining hall, expression grim. “Some kind of shadow monster knocking down buildings, killing trees, and causing people to have hallucinations with its scream.”

“If it’s already made it from Toussaint to Lyria, that means we can expect it here within a couple of hours” Yennefer paces in front of the fireplace.

Geralt looks around at the assembled group, most of whom are staring at him curiously. Vesemir, Eskel, Lambert, Coën, Yennefer, Triss, Calanthe, Eist, Ciri, and Lambert’s Cat witcher friend Aiden— who must have survived in this universe. They are all a little different than Geralt’s brothers and friends, but still so familiar, and Geralt hates that he’s brought death to their door and that there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

“What does it want?” Geralt has been trying not to look at this universe’s version of Ciri, who is only seventeen, sitting between Calanthe and Eist. Her hair is shorter than his Ciri and she has no scar over her eye. But she’s looking between him and his Ciri with a curious expression.

When Geralt speaks, he’s proud of how even his voice is. “It was created by Stregobor and he’s a part of it now, so it wants what he wants. Power.”

“Well, I’m only too happy to watch Stregobor die again.” Calanthe rubs her granddaughter’s shoulders protectively. “So how the fuck do we kill it?”

“We don’t know,” Geralt says. “In every universe where we’ve managed to fight it off, it’s been a special ability of the Jaskier there that thwarted it.”

Everyone looks at Jaskier, who shrugs sheepishly. “We’ve already established that I’m not a mage or a witcher.”

“You singing might make it leave,” Lambert deadpans.

“Oh, the universe is about to end and you can’t help but get one last crack in, can you?” But Jaskier’s grin is affectionate.

This universe’s Geralt doesn’t share in his lover’s mirth. “There has to be something we can do.”

“There is,” Yennefer says briskly. “I’ve already contacted Sabrina and Tissaia. They’re on their way. Between the four of us, we can figure out some way to get our visitors out of our universe and back to their Jaskier. And hopefully send the Watcher with them.”

“And the rest of us should do what we can to secure the keep.” Vesemir sounds very tired. “Board up windows, gather our weapons, check the wards.”

Geralt doesn’t think any of this will help, but he won’t take their last bit of hope away from them. As the others head off on their own missions, seemingly without needing to communicate with each other about what they each need to do, Geralt sits there, waiting for someone to give him an instruction.

“Can I talk to you?” It’s the other Geralt, expression grim.

Geralt nods and lets the other Geralt lead him into the relative privacy of the kitchen.

“When that thing screamed,” the other Geralt says. “All I saw was Jaskier. Jaskier torn apart, Jaskier burned by its venom, Jaskier falling, Jaskier trying to protect children as they were consumed by darkness. But I don’t think any of them were my Jaskier. I think they were the Jaskiers in the universes that have been destroyed.”

Geralt nods. “I saw the same thing.”

The other Geralt has honey brown eyes, almost hazel. Geralt supposes his eyes were probably the same color once upon a time. He doesn’t remember. “If it looks like there’s no saving this universe and it’s about to be destroyed, I want you to take Jaskier when you go. If this universe is doomed, I don’t want him to be doomed with it. Please. I know he’s not your Jaskier, but he’s worth saving.”

Geralt stares at his counterpart. “Have you talked to Jaskier about this?”

The look of bafflement he gets is answer enough.

Geralt sighs. “Look, I’ve known my Jaskier for decades. I cannot count the number of times I told him to run, to save himself. I don’t think he listened to me once. My Jaskier has never left me behind and yours won’t either.”

The other Geralt looks away. “He should still have his whole life ahead of him.”

“And he does. Here, with you.” Geralt clasps his counterpart on the shoulder. “If Jaskier told me he wanted to come with me, I would take him happily. But I won’t haul an unwilling man through a portal. And I think you know your Jaskier well enough to know that he would be unwilling.”

The other Geralt’s jaw clenches, but he nods.

Geralt clasps his shoulder. “I would take all of you with us, if it meant saving you from the Watcher. But Ciri wouldn’t be able to handle all the passengers. I am sorry. But I promise I’ll do whatever I can to protect this universe from the Watcher.”

But whether that will be enough is anyone’s guess.

***

This universe’s Yennefer holds Jaskier’s swallowtail necklace in her hands, studying it, before she looks up at Ciri with a furrow in her brow. “And this is what you’ve been using to track your Jaskier?”

Ciri nods. “We’ve been trying to, at least, but we’re either too late or it brings us to the wrong Jaskier.”

“I see all Jaskiers have equally ostentatious taste,” Yennefer mutters, which is such a Yennefer thing to say that Ciri has to fight a smile. “We’ll need to keep it to examine it.”

Ciri feels a jab of possessiveness towards this last link she has to her friend, but she nods. “Of course.”

Triss gives her a sympathetic look. “You look dead on your feet. The portaling must be taking a lot out of you.”

Ciri has been trying to deny the bone-deep tiredness that she’s been feeling set in for weeks now, but she finds it impossible to deny it when Triss is looking at her so knowingly. “It takes a lot of chaos to portal between universes,” she admits. “Especially as much as I have been.”

“We have a bit of time until we’ll need your help to fight the Watcher,” Triss says. “Why don’t you try to get some rest?”

“I should help.”

Yennefer waves her away. “There are plenty of people helping. If we need you, we’ll come find you.”

Ciri knows when she’s being dismissed, so she leaves them with their heads bent together over the swallowtail pendant. She could find a quiet place to try to get some rest, but she’s filled with restless energy. Her feet move on their own accord, taking her through the halls that are so familiar and yet entirely different from the Kaer Morhen where she grew up. She finds her way to the top of the single tower left in the keep and looks out at the Blue Mountains.

“What do you think?” Her grandmother’s voice is exactly the same as in Ciri’s universe. “Is it the same as your Kaer Morhen?”

Ciri forces herself to turn to look at Calanthe. Not her grandmother, she has to remind herself. Another Calanthe Riannon from another universe. “The view is the same.”

“It’s a nice view.” Calanthe holds out a cup of coffee to her. “Thought you might need this. Triss said she sent you to get some rest, but I figured if you’re anything like my Ciri, you don’t rest unless you’re clubbed unconscious.”

“Thank you.” Ciri says awkwardly.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“Of course.”

Calanthe leans against the wall next to Ciri. “Given that you look like you’ve seen a ghost every time you look at me, I take it I’ve gone and gotten myself killed in your world?”

Ciri swallows around the sudden lump in her throat. “Yes.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“It doesn’t matter. It won’t happen here.”

“Then there’s no harm in you telling me.”

Far below, Coën, Eskel, and Lambert are moving around the training yard, gathering weapons. “When Cintra fell to Nilfgaard, Eist was killed in battle and my grandmother was gravely wounded. She made sure she wouldn’t fall into enemy hands.”

“How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

“Fuck,” Calanthe whispers.

“But Geralt found me and brought me to Kaer Morhen. I was okay.”

If it were her grandmother standing next to her, she would have so many questions to ask. How could she have been such a loving grandmother, but done such terrible things to her non-human subjects at the same time? Why hadn’t she told Ciri the truth about the Law of Surprise? Why hadn’t she let Ciri go with Geralt to safety when she had the chance? But this Calanthe won’t have the answers Ciri needs.

“If she was half as proud of you as I am of my Ciri, then she was pretty damn proud of you, sweetheart,” Calanthe says quietly.

Ciri feels her eyes go hot. She never realized how much she needed to hear those words until now.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself, Ciri?” Calanthe asks.

So Ciri stands there and tells this woman who isn’t her grandmother all about the last decade of her life. And for a few minutes, she’s able to pretend that it is her grandmother standing next to her and that all is well.

***

“Watcher’s been spotted over Ard Carraigh,” Eskel announces.

Geralt doesn’t look up from the silver sword he’s sharpening— the silver sword he knows won’t do a damn thing against the Watcher. If the Watcher is already over Ard Carraigh, there’s only a matter of minutes before it shows up here. Minutes before the world as they know it might come to an end. He looks over at Jaskier, who is keeping himself distracted by peppering Geralt #2 with questions about his own universe.

Yennefer comes bursting out of the keep, a wild look in her eye. “We think we may have figured it out.”

The assembled witchers, Geralt, and Jaskier all turn to face her.

Yennefer holds up the swallowtail pendant. “The problem is that you’ve been using just this to track Jaskier, but all the Jaskiers in all the universes are fundamentally the same. They may be mages or druids or witchers or bards, but they all have that Jaskier-ness about them, for better or for worse.”

“Aw, Yenn, you flatterer,” Jaskier says.

Yennefer ignores him. “But your Jaskier was caught in a collapsing portal. A portal created by Ciri. He should be drenched in her chaos. What we need is to create a hybrid tracking spell of sorts to track both Jaskier and Ciri’s chaos. It won’t be easy. We’ll need both Ciris to help do it. But it should bring you to your Jaskier.”

Geralt #2 is quiet for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as I can be about an experimental piece of magic that I only have minutes to prepare.”

“And the Watcher?” Geralt asks. As much as he would like to see Geralt #2 reunited with his Jaskier, he’s somewhat more concerned with the universe-devouring monster approaching.

“The Watcher appears to be attracted to chaos. This spell will create a surge of chaos. Our hope is that it will go through the portal after our other visitors.”

Geralt #2 frowns. “So it will just follow us to the next universe.”

“That’s your problem, I’m afraid,” Yennefer says. “I want to reunite you with the man you love, but I won’t do it at the expense of my universe and the people I love. I’m sorry.”

“Fair enough,” Geralt #2 says. “What do you need from us?”

“Time.” Her lips curl into a grim smile. “As much time as you can give us to prepare the spell.”

***

Geralt keeps an eye on the skyline as the sorceresses prepare the spell. Worrying about the Watcher’s imminent approach keeps him distracted from the fact that he’s about to be subject to a highly experimental piece of magic. And if that experimental magic works, he might see his Jaskier again within the next few minutes.

“And why are we glaring at mountains today?” Ciri comes to stand next to him.

“Hm. You okay?”

Ciri glances towards Calanthe, who is standing with her granddaughter and Eist. “She isn’t my grandmother, but it was good to talk to her.”

“Good.”

“I’m glad her Ciri has her. Just like I’m glad I have you.”

Geralt doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with that. He clears his throat.

She lets out a little laugh. “So, it looks like Yennefer’s spell might work.”

“So it does.”

“You might want to decide what you’re going to do when you see Jaskier again.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Ciri says. “You’re not going to go back to pretending that you’re not in love with him, right? After everything you’ve seen?”

“No.” That ship has sailed.

“Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.”

“Do you want my advice?”

“Think I’m going to get it anyway.”

“You are,” she says cheerfully. “Every world we’ve visited, you and Jaskier have been important to each other, no matter what your relationship has been like. You two will always be important to each other. He’s your best friend. You two have been in love with each other for decades. Just fucking make your move already, Geralt.”

“The Watcher—”

“Could devour us all with a thought. Do you want that to happen without Jaskier knowing how you feel?”

“No.” Geralt glances over at the other Geralt and his Jaskier, who are standing with their arms around each other, potentially saying their goodbyes.

Ciri follows his line of sight. “Look at them.”

As Geralt watches, the other Geralt presses his forehead against Jaskier’s, cupping the back of Jaskier’s neck with his hand tenderly. Jaskier laughs and kisses his lover. Geralt could overhear their conversation if he focused, but he lets them have their privacy.

“You deserve to have that, Geralt,” Ciri says. “So does Jaskier. Let yourself have that.”

“But what if it doesn’t work out?” Geralt can barely bring himself to voice the fear. “I’ll have lost my best friend.”

“You won’t lose him. Jaskier is yours. He always has been.”

Vesemir calls a warning and Geralt turns, already knowing what he’ll see. Over the edge of the mountains in the distance, a long, shadowy leg appears.

The Watcher is here.

***

“You know,” Jaskier tells his Geralt. “I will be furious if I put all that time into learning how to start a business, and it’s all for nothing because the world is about to end.”

“That’s what you're furious about?” Geralt asks.

“Well, it’s an easier thing to focus on than existential dread, so yes.”

“I tried to get him to take you with them,” Geralt says.

Jaskier glances over at Geralt #2 and his Ciri. They’re looking out at the mountains too, talking in low voices. “To their universe?”

“If this universe is about to be destroyed, it might be the only way to save your life.”

“Geralt, no.”

“Jask—”

“No.” Jaskier reaches up to cup Geralt’s face in his hands. “We’re in this together. That means that if this universe is about to be devoured, we get devoured together. If we manage to kick the Watcher’s ass, we kick some ass together. We’re a package deal, my love. And you’re not sending me through a portal to become some other Geralt’s problem. And as lovely as this Geralt is, he has his own Jaskier.”

Geralt presses his forehead against Jaskier’s, his fingers curling around the back of Jaskier’s neck. “Don’t know what would happen if two Jaskiers met anyway. Probably a lot of fucking singing.”

Jaskier laughs. “I’ll pretend you didn’t just make that sound like a bad thing.”

Vesemir calls out a warning and a shudder runs through Jaskier. He knows what that means. The Watcher has come into sight.

“I love you,” Jaskier tells Geralt. His voice only shakes a little.

“I love you too.” Geralt’s grip on Jaskier tightens. “If these were the last few years of my life, I’m glad I got to spend them with you.”

Jaskier feels a surge of furious, helpless grief. He has to take a deep breath and wait for it to pass before he speaks again. “We might get more years together.”

“We might.”

The ground is starting to shake. Out of the corner of his eye, Jaskier can see the roiling darkness of the Watcher’s approach. He focuses on the honey brown eyes in front of him. “We might grow old together. Or, I’ll grow old. You’ll just grow older.”

“Ha,” Geralt says dryly.

“I’ve been thinking about getting a dog.”

“Mousesack won’t like that.”

“Mousesack will adjust.” Jaskier shrugs. “I’ve always wanted a dog named Pegasus.”

“Dumb name for a dog.”

“Says the man who has named every horse and car he’s ever owned Roach.”

A shadow falls over them.

“We get through this, and I’ll get you a dog for every room in the house,” Geralt says.

“We live in a big ass house. You might regret that.”

“I know.” Geralt presses his lips to Jaskier’s again and again, almost frantically. “I love you, Jask. I love you so fucking—”

The Watcher screams and the world seems to split apart.

***

When the Watcher— when _Jaskier_ — screams, the sight that dances in front of Geralt’s vision is of Jaskier. Jaskier, screaming as he’s devoured by darkness. Jaskier, begging for help. Jaskier, crying out Geralt’s name. Without a doubt, Geralt knows that it’s this Jaskier he’s seeing. That was this Jaskier, screaming and begging in his last moments before he became this monstrosity.

When the shriek dies in the air, Geralt looks around to see the other Geralt clutching his Jaskier. Yennefer, Triss, Sabrina, Tissaia, and the two Ciris are both working on their spell while the other witchers, Eist, and Calanthe stand in a protective circle around them, ready to do whatever is necessary to defend them from the Watcher. Staggering to his feet, Geralt goes to get the other Geralt and Jaskier.

“Come on.” He hauls them to their feet and pulls them towards the circle of witchers.

Jaskier looks at him with dazed eyes. There are crescent-shaped marks in his cheeks from where he dug his fingernails in while the Watcher screamed and his pupils are enormous. The Watcher spits out a mouthful of acidic venom and Geralt just manages to yank the two human men out of the way. The venom splatters across the grass, causing it to wither and die instantly.

When the Watcher’s leg comes towards them, Geralt isn’t fast enough to push the humans out of the way. It bats Jaskier and the other Geralt away like a couple of inconvenient house flies. Both men go flying through the air. The other Geralt hits the ground and doesn’t move. Jaskier slams into the low brick wall surrounding the training yard and lies there, groaning. Geralt starts towards them, but another scream rends the air and he has to screw his eyes shut against the horrible images of Jaskier and Ciri dead and tortured.

He opens his eyes in time to see the Watcher bring its leg down on the stone wall, collapsing a portion of it onto Jaskier’s legs. Jaskier’s scream of pain is high and thin. His Geralt doesn’t even twitch. Eskel and Coën break away from the cluster of witchers to help, but the Watcher bats them away. Jaskier struggles under the heavy stones pinning his legs down as the Watcher rounds on him, all teeth and tendrils of shadow.

“Geralt!” Jaskier cries.

Geralt knows he’s not the Geralt that Jaskier is crying out for, but he runs towards the trapped man. He won’t let another Jaskier die. He throws himself between Jaskier and the Watcher and braces himself for a face full of acid or teeth to sink into him. He has his sword in hand, but he knows it will do nothing against the creature. The best he can hope for is that killing him will satisfy Stregobor’s bloodlust and maybe the others will be allowed to remain unscathed. Ciri will have to find their Jaskier on her own.

But nothing happens.

Geralt opens his eyes, hardly daring to look. The Watcher is hovering above him, its maw agape and dripping acid, its shadowy arms only inches from him. He’s seen a lot of nightmarish things in his long life, but the knowledge that this twisted creature was once Jaskier— Jaskier, who is light and music and joy, who doesn’t deserve an eternity trapped in the dark— sends a visceral shudder of horror through him.

Behind him, Jaskier’s breathing is ragged. “Geralt?”

The Watcher twitches.

“Quiet,” Geralt says softly.

The Watcher reaches out one shadowy leg and brushes Geralt’s cheek, so lightly that he barely feels it. At that tiny touch, any lingering doubts Geralt had about the identity of this creature or hopes that this was just one last trick of Stregobor’s dies.

“Jaskier,” he whispers.

The Watcher shudders. It suddenly seems very small.

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier.” Even if this isn’t his Jaskier, this Jaskier has a Geralt. And that Geralt should have been with him. That Geralt should have stopped Stregobor from getting his hands on Jaskier. “This never should have happened to you. I’m so sorry.”

 _“Geralt?”_ The voice that comes from within the Watcher sounds so much older and wearier than Jaskier ever should. _“Please. Please end it. I’m so tired.”_

Heat prickles at Geralt’s eyes. “I’m trying. I’ll do whatever I can to save you.”

_“I’m holding him back. You need to flee while you can.”_

Geralt looks up into that nightmarish face and pictures the man he loves— all blue eyes and dazzling smiles. “I’ll figure out a way to fix this.”

 _“Thank you.”_ But Jaskier just sounds resigned.

On the other side of the courtyard, Geralt sees his Ciri gesturing at him frantically. The spell must be ready.

Slowly, afraid that any sudden movements will startle the Watcher back into violence, Geralt bends to drag this world’s Jaskier out from under the stones collapsed on him. One of his legs is definitely broken and he has to lean all his weight against Geralt. Geralt scoops the unconscious human Geralt up with his other arm and drags the two men towards the cluster of witchers. He’s halfway across the courtyard when the Watcher gives a violent shudder and whirls on him. Stregobor is back in charge.

Geralt runs as quickly as he can while carrying the dead weight of two grown men,

“Hurry!” his Ciri cries. She and this universe’s Ciri are holding hands and standing in front of a portal that Yennefer, Triss, Tissaia, and Sabrina seem to be holding open with every ounce of strength they have.

Geralt safely deposits the other Geralt and Jaskier on the ground. Jaskier gathers his unconscious lover against his chest and looks up at Geralt. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I can’t do more.” Geralt doesn’t like leaving any version of Jaskier injured and in danger, but he puts this entire universe at risk by staying.

“Don’t be.” Jaskier flashes a weak smile. “You’re a good Geralt. Your Jaskier is lucky to have you.”

“No,” Geralt says. “I’m lucky to have him.”

“Go!” Yennefer barks, face screwed up in effort.

There’s no time for goodbyes. His Ciri lets go of this world’s Ciri to clasp Geralt’s hand, the swallowtail pendant sandwiched between their palms. Her hands are shaking with the effort of casting the spell.

“Let’s go get him,” Ciri says.

Together, they step through the portal.

*** 

When Jaskier opens his eyes, he’s pleasantly surprised to find that the world hasn’t ended. The sky is blue, his head is pillowed on Geralt’s lap, and Yennefer's face is hovering over him.

“We’re alive.” Jaskier doesn’t quite believe it until he hears himself say the words. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” Yennefer says. “Your left leg was crushed from the knee down.”

Jaskier grimaces. “Well, that explains the agony. Geralt and Ciri?”

“Went through the portal without a hitch.” A hand strokes through Jaskier’s hair and he looks up into Geralt’s worried brown eyes.

“And the Watcher?”

“Followed them.”

Jaskier lets out a relieved breath.

“You’re okay.” Geralt doesn’t sound like he quite believes it. His hand smooths over Jaskier’s cheek.

“Of course I am,” Jaskier says, though every inch of him hurts. “You’re the one who got knocked unconscious.”

“Just a bump on the head. I’m fine.”

“Oh yes, that severe concussion I had to heal was just a bump on the head.” The disdain in Yennefer’s voice is somewhat belied by her clear exhaustion. “I did my best to heal both of you, but I’m a bit sapped of strength right now. You’re both going to need more healing tomorrow, so you’ll be staying here for a couple of days so I can keep an eye on you.”

“Thanks, Yenn.” Jaskier looks around the training yard. Triss is tending to Eskel and Coën, who both have minor injuries. Everyone else— Lambert, Aiden, Vesemir, Tissaia, Sabrina, Calanthe, Eist, and Ciri— are all unharmed. Ciri and Calanthe are standing in the spot where the portal was, their arms around each other.

“You think they found their Jaskier?” he asks.

Geralt leans down to press a kiss against Jaskier’s forehead. “Of course they did. That Geralt will always find his Jaskier, just like I’ll always find you.”

His glasses are slightly askew. Jaskier reaches up to straighten them, heart melting. “That was the most sentimental thing you’ve ever said to me. Yennefer, are you sure you fixed Geralt’s head trauma? You might want to check again.”

“I knew I should have left you unconscious for longer,” Yennefer says.

Jaskier grins up at her. “Love you, too.”

She rolls her eyes and stands up to go check on the others. Jaskier sits up to lean back against Geralt’s chest, letting his boyfriend wrap his arms around him.

“Shit,” Jaskier says. “We actually survived.”

Geralt squeezes him. “We did.”

Jaskier looks up at his boyfriend with a mischievous smile. “Now, what were you saying about a dog for every room in the house?”

“Fuck.”

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are highly appreciated! The finale of Into the Jaskierverse, written by KHansen, will be published on Tuesday.
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](https://ghostinthelibrarywrites.tumblr.com/) or on Discord at ghostinthelibrary#1691.


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